She _is_ the world!--she makes it, she rejuvenates it, she gives it strength! Why should she condescend to mix with the passing political squabbles of her slaves and children ?--for men are no more than her slaves and children.

Love is her weapon--one true touch of that, and the wildest heart that ever beat in a man's breast is tamed." There was a silence.

Suddenly Mary pushed aside her work, and going to the door opened it.
"It's so warm to-day, don't you think ?" she asked, passing her hand a little wearily across her forehead.

"One would think it was almost June." "You are tired, Miss Mary!" said Reay, somewhat anxiously.
"No--I'm not tired--but"-- here all at once her eyes filled with tears.
"I've got a bit of a headache," she murmured, forcing a smile--"I think I'll go to my room and rest for half an hour.

Good-bye, Mr.Reay!" "Good-bye--for the moment!" he answered--and taking her hand he pressed it gently.